


blame it on my beating heart

by aimerai



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Pining, Stupidity, Traveling Heart AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-09-26 22:51:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17150582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimerai/pseuds/aimerai
Summary: "Did you just call my heart a good pocket warmer?""No?"





	blame it on my beating heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [love_stella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/love_stella/gifts).



> dear ash: i hope you enjoy this fic as much as i enjoyed writing it!
> 
> title from karmin's 'blame it on my heart' which does not really work for this fic, but does give a great title

Tyson wakes up to his heart on his bedside table, turns over, and decides to go back to sleep. It is way too fucking early to be up. Even for summer, his room is just starting to lighten; the slight glow of his heart still obvious in the dark. Ten seconds later, his eyes snap open, because that can’t actually be his heart. His heart doesn't leave his chest very much, or at all, really, not since he was young. He sits up and looks at the heart on the table again, and that is definitely not his. It's too big, and when he reaches out, not touching it, just leaving his hand hovering over it, he doesn't get back the feedback he's used to. He has someone else's heart burning hot and bright on his bedside table.

Tyson isn't sure what to do. It's a big heart, warm, and those are the kind of hearts people miss when they're gone. He doesn't want to call someone and have it not be their heart, because that's an awkward situation. Nothing casual about ‘ _hey by any chance do I have your heart?_ ’ Or maybe it's just Tyson that thinks it's a little presumptuous. Either way, he'll take care of it until he finds the person who it belongs to, or until they find him. He doesn’t know what else to do; he’s never been visited by someone else’s heart.

“It's gonna be you and me, buddy,” he tells the heart, picking it up as gingerly as possible.

He tells himself he can feel it pulse, but it's probably just the heart on its own, Tyson imagining things. It beats steadily, no flutters, calm and steady and soothing.    

And then he yawns and he really does want to go back to sleep. “If I put you on the table again, will you stay there till it’s real people morning hours?”    

The heart, because it is a heart, and because Tyson doesn’t know it well, doesn’t do anything, just continues to beat, still glowing faintly. Tyson takes that for a yes and gently puts it back on the bedside table because he needs his beauty sleep.    

The heart is still there when he wakes up for the second time, light streaming in through his curtains. Tyson was hoping it had been a dream, but he is, sadly, mistaken. He still has no more ideas on how to find the owner of the heart any time soon, and in the morning light, it is both bigger and brighter than he remembered, and still hot to the touch, but in a good way, like holding a mug of hot chocolate after playing shinny till it's too dark to see. Tyson’s sure the person it belongs to is worried, but he doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t want to announce it to the whole world, but neither does he want to ask the likeliest suspects, and be wrong about it. Maybe he should call someone for advice, but not right this moment, because it is still kinda early and he wants food.    

Well, he wants food and to call Dante, because he hasn't heard from him in a while. Or at least, that's what he tells himself as he texts Dante, casual as fuck, all _sup?_

Dante's response is equally casual. No _this isnt a good time_ or anything. Tyson swallows his disappointment with a sip of his protein shake and tells himself he's not unhappy with this, as a FaceTime request pops up.  

He hides the heart, carefully, so there's no way it'll enter Dante's line of vision, and answers the request with his mouth open and full of chewed up toast.

Dante is used to much worse from Tyson, laughing brightly. "You're disgusting, put it away. Why are you fishing about Summerland?"

Tyson closes his mouth and chews, and wonders how Dante reached the conclusion that his text was about Summerland. It's honestly probably best if he doesn't ask.

"I'm not fishing," Tyson says, and it's true about Summerland, at least.

"You're a shit liar," Dante says, matter-of-fact. "The worst."

"That hurt me deep inside," Tyson says, grinning at Dante, because he's good at jokes, and makes the executive decision to not eat anymore right now, when it all suddenly tastes like sawdust.

Dante rolls his eyes. "You don't feel pain over that, and you know it. Anyway, Mat's coming, if you were wondering."

"Ew," Tyson says reflexively.

Dante rolls his eyes again. Tyson wants to tell him that if he keeps rolling them that hard, they'll fall out, and doesn’t. "Why are you both like that?"

"We're not bleeding hearts," Tyson says. Dante is a kumbaya guy; Tyson truly believes that deep down that is all Dante wants: to love everyone and have everyone love him back. He even has that, to an extent.

Dante pouts, but it's small and for show, and Tyson doesn't know why he's still capable of getting more disappointed over something that he can't even admit to himself that he wants. "Fuck off," Dante says, but fondly.

Mat Barzal is a terrible influence on him, and Tyson tells him that word for word so Dante will sputter and repeat it, but with heat this time.

* * *

“What, no heart?” Dante calls across the room, jokingly, as Mat beelines for him. They haven’t seen each other in months, and it wears on both of them, which is probably why Dante’s heart goes to Mat as often as it does. But Dante still feels separation anxiety, and he doesn’t know why it’s so strong this time. It hasn’t been that long, comparatively speaking, he just really wants his heart back.

Mat freezes, and gives Dante the strangest look. “Dude, I don’t have your heart. Haven’t seen it since December last switch.”

Dante blinks at him, his throat seizing up but his voice surprisingly level when he speaks. “You promised to never lie about my heart.”

“I'm not lying,” Mat says. “Dante, I swear, I don't lie about your heart.”

And that's true, which means--

Dante is freaking out. Dante is freaking the fuck out, and he knows he’s freaking Mat out by proxy, but this never happens to him, this has never happened to him before, and he doesn’t know what to do. He would’ve sworn up and down that Mat had his heart. Mat’s own heart situation is complicated, and Dante thinks there’s a timeshare associated with it, but Dante’s heart is uncomplicated. It loves people, and goes to find them itself sometimes, and that’s all that’s there to it. And yet, right now, it’s missing, not with any of its favourite people.

“Does Sophia have it?” Mat asks, and Dante manages to shake his head while taking in heaving breaths of air.

“Breathe, Dante, we’ll figure this out,” Mat says gently, and that’s what really freaks Dante out, because Mat is his best friend, but even then, he’s not this kind or careful.

Dante takes a couple of deep breaths. “It’s been gone almost a month,” he says, willing Mat to understand. “I figured you or Sophia or, fuck, even Otter had it, since it isn't home.”

Mat winces. “I never lie to you about your heart.”

“I know,” Dante says. “I don’t--where would it even have gone?”

Dante’s heart is so very obvious about who Dante’s favourites are, and it’s big enough that it can’t be missed. It goes to his family, or it goes to Mat, who is as good as family. He didn't even know it was possible for his heart to go anywhere else.

“You said it's been gone a month?” Mat asks.

Dante nods, and tries not to cry about it, but it's his heart, so he's blinking away tears anyway. “Early June.”

“While you were still in Boston,” Mat finishes. “You never said.”

Dante shrugs. “I didn't think it was actually missing.”

Mat shakes his head. “You're too trusting. It'll come back when it can be read, and you're easy to read.”

And Mat would know best, after all, so Dante tries to breathe. It’ll be okay. It has to be okay.

* * *

The heart that is chilling with Tyson is weird. Not bad-weird, but still fucking weird. And clingy. And really good at giving Tyson heart attacks. Tyson tries to leave it in his room at first, because explaining that he has someone’s heart when he doesn’t know whose heart it is feels like a bad idea, and Tyson is prone to enacting his bad ideas, but only when they’re bad-funny, not when they’re the serious kind of bad. Also, his mom would be disappointed in him, and Tyson absolutely cannot have that. Tyson is a momma’s boy, and she raised him better than to play with someone’s heart.

And everything would be fine, except it doesn’t stay in his room. He’ll be playing video games and it’ll show up on the couch beside him, and then he’ll die in the virtual world because it distracts him. Or he’ll be taking out things for a nutritionist-approved lunch, and it’ll end up on the refrigerator shelf, and Tyson will freak out because he’s pretty sure cold isn’t good for it, and he’ll stick it in his pocket while scolding it. Eventually, he starts wearing a sweatshirt with pockets as long as he’s staying in. It feels like the heart approves, beating just as steadily as always. He doesn't know how long it'll take till he can read it, but he doesn't think it'll be a very mushy gushy heart, for all that it's big. It never wavers, not really, and it feels settled.

Tyson also talks to it a lot, keeps his hands in his pockets while keeping a running commentary of his summer. He's not lonely, per se, but it's nice to be heard, sometimes, and people who think hearts aren't really alive or capable of understanding apart from their person are wrong. It feels like he's being listened to, and the warmth of it is always welcome, even though it’s summer. He keeps the air conditioning on a little lower than he’s used to, and considers that a good enough reason to always keep the heart on him.

Tyson still doesn't take the heart outside though. He doesn’t want to explain it to other people, so he always puts it somewhere safe and warm whenever he leaves. Or, at least, that was his plan, until he’s out getting groceries and finds it resting in the tomatoes. People _squeeze_ those, and Tyson has a goddamn heart attack as he scoops it up, his heart lurching uncomfortably in his chest. He desperately hopes no one else saw it, because he doesn’t know what he’d do if someone else had picked up this heart.

“You can’t _do_ that,” he hisses, quietly, aware of the mom with a three year old picking out apples in the next aisle. “It’s dangerous, what if I weren’t the one to pick you up?”

The heart just keeps beating, completely unrepentant. Tyson reevaluates all the nice things he was thinking: this heart is definitely a little shit. He doesn’t really mind, though, and it’s easier to power through his shopping with the heart in his pocket.

* * *

Dante's heart is still missing, and he’s a little bit resigned to it by now. He knows he’s worrying everyone around him, but none of them get it, the split-second of terror, knowing his heart was gone and there was no way to track it down, that hasn’t fucking ended yet, has widened into weeks and weeks of terror. He’s still worried, even when he’s enjoying himself, a corner of his brain is wondering where his heart has gone to, if it’s with someone kind, someone who won’t be upset at all of its idiosyncrasies.

Weirdly, the person who manages to distract him the most is Tyson. It helps that Tyson doesn’t really know about Dante’s heart, which was almost always with someone else while he was in Penticton, on top of being remarkably well-behaved. Tyson doesn’t really know how hard all of his bleeding heart jokes hit, and Dante finds it easier to wave them off when it’s obvious Tyson doesn’t know anything. Dante thinks he’s called Tyson more than he ever has before, but Tyson always picks up. Sometimes he almost lets it go to voicemail, before picking up looking and sounding breathless, but Dante never gets any hints as to what it is exactly that causes Tyson to be like that picking up.

Today is one of those times; Tyson looking squirrelly as fuck when he picks up, his eyes drifting off every so often to check on something to his right.

“Is this a bad time?” Dante asks, because he can’t help it. It doesn’t sound like Tyson has company, but what does he know? It makes something in him twist; he wants all of Tyson’s attention.

Tyson’s eyes slide back to Dante, and he looks a little guilty. “I--no, this is fine, I just have the TV on.”

Tyson really is a shit liar. Dante ignores the way that it makes him feel, that there’s something Tyson isn’t telling him. They’re not that tight anymore, no longer living in each other’s pockets, but some part of him still hurts, even though Dante knows he’s being ridiculous. It’s not like he’s told Tyson about his missing heart, either, and that’s got to be more major news than whatever Tyson has going on in his living room.

Dante smiles at him, hopes it looks real enough. “Glad to know I rank below TV.”

Tyson’s face does a thing, and it’s funny enough that Dante’s startled into laughing, just as Tyson breaks into a rambling denial. Dante’s not entirely sure Tyson knows what he’s saying, and all he’s picking up is that Tyson is furiously backtracking, and saying some truly soft stuff in the middle of it, all heartfelt enough to make Dante blush scarlet. Dante thinks there was a tangent in there where Tyson called him a stud, and it’s the kind of stuff he’d normally chirp Tyson for saying.

“Okay, I get it,” Dante says, cutting Tyson off, knowing his voice is too soft. “Thanks, bud.”

Tyson looks relieved, but also pink as fuck. “Sorry, it’s just been a weird couple of weeks. Can’t wait to see you, though.”

“You too,” Dante says, knows his voice is still too fucking soft, but can’t bring himself to care, not when Tyson beams at him. “How is everything, outside of the weirdness?”

Tyson launches into an explanation of the workouts he’s been doing for his legs, and Dante’s sure his face is going to stay red for a while.

* * *

Tyson is halfway through his eggs when Mat calls, and Mat is not a caller. The only things they really have in common are Dante and hockey. He picks up anyway, reflexively looking to where the heart is peacefully resting on the kitchen counter. “Dude, what the fuck?”

“Be nice to Dante,” Mat says, and he sounds stressed about it. “I know you like him, so you better be nice.”   

“Is this a shovel talk?” Tyson asks, his heart hammering in his chest. “Because like, why?”    

His hands are clammy. He knows he's obvious, knows Dante has a big heart and is liberal with his ‘I love yous,’ and that they're functionally meaningless, but he still wants so much with Dante. They lived in each other’s pockets for so long, competitive as fuck about everything, always yelling and shoving and wrestling, and somewhere along the way Tyson developed a killer crush, occasionally horrifically obvious about it. He just didn't think Mat--or anyone--was ever going to call him out on it. Unless, maybe, possibly, it means Dante is interested, and Tyson's heart is racing inside his chest, where it’s always lived, ever since Tyson was old enough to speak. He’s never been called out like this, and it’s uncomfortable, to say the least.

Mat's voice is grating, pure asshole, but there's a thread of worry in it. “Because he's having a shitty summer so far, and if you make it worse, I will tear off your balls.”    

Well. Okay, then.

“Do you think I would actually make it worse?” Tyson asks.

“What do I know? I’m just saying, bro.”

He hangs up before Tyson can say anything in response to that, and Tyson knows there’s no point in calling him back to yell at him. Mat won’t pick up; it’s how he makes sure he gets the final word.

Tyson looks at the heart on the counter next to him. “Mat’s an asshole, just so you know. You could’ve been with someone like him, and that would’ve sucked, for you.”

The heart doesn’t say anything, but Tyson feels the faintest trace of what feels like fondness. “I love you, too,” he says.

He has no idea whose heart it is, but he’s grown increasingly fond of it, enough that he’s sure he’ll like the person behind it. And if he’s starting to feel emotions, it can’t be long before he’ll start feeling other things too, and then he might finally be able to return it to its owner, the feedback enough to send him to the right person, without involving others along the way.

* * *

“Hey,” Dante says, and he looks--not great. He’s definitely happy to see Tyson, but there’s an undercurrent of upset, and Tyson will get it out of him one way or another.

Tyson has to put away all his stuff first, and check that the heart is doing okay. Normally, Tyson would have left it behind, but after the grocery store incident, he’s too afraid to. They spend way too much time out on the water in Summerland for the heart to randomly pop up there because Tyson left it behind.

“Hey,” Tyson says, and doesn’t say anything about how Dante looks kinda pinched around the eyes. “It’s good to see you.”

“Good to see you,” Dante echoes, and accepts Tyson’s hug. He looks like he needs it, and looks fractionally happier, afterwards, so Tyson lets it rest. “You can call whatever room you want; you’re the first one here besides Mat.”

Tyson pulls a face, expressive, and Dante laughs, unaware of the very real dread pulling at Tyson’s heart. That last call from Mat had unsettled him and really made him think. He wonders if Dante knows about Tyson’s feelings and is just ignoring them to be kind, so he doesn’t have to outright let Tyson down. He doesn’t think that’s Dante’s style, but he thinks he’s being affected by the heart he’s been holding on to. He feels so much more emotional than he did before this summer, second-guessing every single Dante-related thing that’s ever happened. It doesn’t help that Dante’s been everywhere this summer, calling more than he ever has, not to mention their pretty impressive Snap streak.

“Don’t be a baby about it,” Dante says, as he walks back inside. “I’ll let you put your shit away, but then you’re gonna play nice, c’mon.”

“I’m always nice,” Tyson grumbles, but it’s hard not to respond to Dante’s smile, following him in. He feels happier than he did just moments ago, and Tyson isn’t vain enough to think that it’s all him, but it certainly feels that way. “Mat’s the one who’s a dick.”

“You needle him,” Dante replies, like he does not also needle Mat at every opportunity. The two of them are good at it; they have a routine, now.

Tyson picks the room that he usually does, just kinda plunks his bags down because he doesn’t want to unpack. He does, however, immediately unzip the bag he’d put the heart in, unswaddling it from a Team Canada shirt, one of the softest ones he owns.

“Hey, bud, you doing okay?” he asks, softly.

The heart, for real this time, kinda pulses at him. It feels happy, so he guesses it’s probably okay, no adverse reactions from travelling.

Tyson laughs a little. “Me too.”

He’s glad it’s okay, and here with him, even if it’s going to be a nightmare and a half to keep it away from the other boys. He’ll figure it out. He’s so distracted planning that he doesn’t hear the door open, or realise that he’d left the door unlocked in his rush to check on the heart.

What he does hear is an incredibly high pitched, breathless, “Where did you get that?”

* * *

Dante blinks, but the sight remains the same, Tyson sitting on the floor with his heart, giving it one of the softest smiles Dante has ever seen. He’s not jealous.

Tyson, when he hears Dante’s voice, freezes, giving him the guiltiest possible look, his hands closing around Dante’s heart, but gently, cradling it, just shielding it from Dante’s view. “Be nice, it’s sensitive,” Tyson says, and he sounds defensive as fuck.

Dante knows his heart is sensitive, thank you very much. “Tyson, where did you get that?”

Tyson looks prickly, which is something Dante’s never seen on him before, and would be more curious about if he weren’t resisting the urge to snatch his heart back. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Tyson; it’s just that it’s been missing so long, and Dante has missed it, and spent tons of sleepless nights worrying about it. “Look, don’t be weird about it, just think about it like those weird packs you used to put in your gloves while playing shinny; I’ll keep it in my pocket.”

Dante gives Tyson a look, wonders how Tyson doesn’t know already. “Did you just call my heart a good pocket warmer?”

Tyson blinks at him, uncovers the heart, only a little, and gives Dante a suspicious look. “No?” he says, finally seeming to come to the realization that yes, that is Dante’s heart he’s holding.

Dante rolls his eyes. Only Tyson. “Can I have it back?” he asks, trying not to be offended by the fact that Tyson called it a good pocket warmer.

Tyson stares at him. “Wait, it’s actually your--”

Oh my god. This is excruciating. “Yes, that’s actually my heart; it’s been missing for weeks, can I please have it back?” Dante bursts, all of a sudden.

“Yeah,” Tyson says, his voice all weird. “Here you go.”

He gives Dante the heart, carefully, laying his hands with Dante’s heart in them in Dante’s hands and then slipping his hands out, and before Dante can thank him, or ask any of the thousands of questions plaguing him, slips out of the room, leaving Dante with his heart, which, for some reason, keeps giving him feedback of Tyson cooking.

Abruptly, Dante feels shitty about how he’s just behaved, because, let’s face it, he could have been nicer, and Dante’s heart is definitely happy about the amount of time it’s spent with Tyson. Honestly, it feels like Tyson has been ridiculously careful with Dante’s heart, based on the massive amount of feedback that Dante’s getting, most of it tinged with fondness. Dante’s sure he’s going to feel shittier about it before it’s done info-dumping on him, but he’s sure it’ll roll right off of Tyson’s back if he explains himself.

He knows part of his reaction is because it was Tyson. It could’ve been with any of his other friends it’s never visited, and he knows he wouldn’t have overreacted quite like this, but it’s Tyson, and Dante’s never claimed to be rational about him.

* * *

It’s Mat, who finds Tyson, who decided to go out and sit by the docks and put his feet in the water and try not to freak out about Dante hating him forever. It makes sense, all of a sudden, that the too big, too warm heart is Dante’s, and it’s not like he didn’t know something was up, Mat even told him something was up, and now Tyson has been thinking himself into an anxiety spiral like nothing else.

“He loses his heart, sometimes,” Mat says, entirely too casual, no hello at all, straight into the heart of things. “The first year we were apart I had his heart for the first six months. And he told me it visits with Sophia sometimes.” Of course it does; Dante’s the softest person that Tyson knows. It doesn’t change that Dante had looked so fucking upset when he saw Tyson with his heart, and Tyson’s been careful, and taken good care of it.

“He got mad at me for calling it a good pocket warmer,” Tyson says finally, because he doesn’t want to start in on the heavy stuff, on how unwilling Dante was to have Tyson explain anything, or how it feels like he’s lost something even though Dante’s heart never belonged to him in the first place.

Mat gives Tyson the most judgmental look Tyson has ever been on the receiving end of, and Tyson knows plenty of judgmental people. “Yeah, I don't blame him. He has a good heart.” Which, duh, it’s Dante. Suddenly, this is starting to feel like a shovel talk, for real this time.

“I never said it wasn't!” Tyson protests.

“A pocket warmer,” Mat says, flatly.

“I just got used to having it all the time,” Tyson says, figures that if he explains the easy stuff to Mat, he’ll know what to do the next time he sees Dante. “I left it behind once and it ended up at the grocery store. And I really didn’t know it was his.”

Mat snickers. “Sounds like Dante.”

And then he changes gears again, looks serious again. “You know, the only reason he was so upset is because he didn’t know where it was. It’s always been with me or his sisters or his parents. He thought he’d lost it for good.”

Tyson thinks of it, of Dante’s heart being lost forever, and abruptly feels nauseated.

Mat must see it on his face. “Yeah,” he says softly. “Go talk to him, I swear he’s not actually going to be mad.”

“Easy for you to say,” Tyson says, a little meanly. Mat hadn’t seen the look on Dante’s face during that confrontation.

Mat shrugs. “Yeah, it is.” Tyson wants to punch him in the face, but then Mat continues. “But he said that you’d taken good care of it, and he’s always worn his heart on his sleeve.”

Tyson hopes he isn’t blushing, or that he’ll at least be able to pass it off as sunburn.

“In a little bit,” he says, finally. “It’s nice out here.”

“Whatever you need, dude,” Mat says, sincerely, and Tyson is almost glad that they know each other, except then Mat ruins it. “I’m going to send Dante out after you in 30 minutes though.”

Tyson’s original opinion on Mat was the right one all along; he really is an asshole.

* * *

Dante’s heart is back in his chest, and he’s nervous as fuck, because Mat’s face when he’d come back from talking to Tyson had been weird, to put it lightly, and Dante definitely got the impression that Mat was a little bit mad at him.

“Stop making me clean up your mess,” Mat had told him, quietly. “It’s Josty. Go talk to him, and apologise, or you guys are going to be weird the entire time that we’re here.”

So now he’s stepping out to the docks, where Tyson is just looking out at the water, probably zoning out.

“Hey,” he says, tentatively.

Tyson turns around, and pats the wood next to him, so Dante sits down beside him, some distance between them.

“Sorry for calling your heart a pocket warmer, but I just had it all the time, and I couldn’t leave it behind when coming here, and I didn’t want you to freak out,” Tyson says, all in one breath without pausing.

“Sorry for being a dick about you having it,” Dante says, after he’s processed what Tyson’s said. “I didn’t realise you’d never seen it, and it’s just never gone somewhere where I haven’t known where it is.”

“It just showed up one day,” Tyson says, helplessly, and he’s looking out at the lake and not at Dante. “I didn’t know it was yours, and I didn’t want to tell people, because I didn’t know whose it was, but I figured they wouldn’t want people to know their heart had traveled.”

Oh. So it wasn’t that Tyson hadn’t asked him if it was his heart, it was that Tyson hadn’t asked anyone if it was their heart. Dante feels a little lighter about it, and thinks of how many weeks of worry he’d have saved if he’d just told Tyson his heart had gone missing, if he hadn’t deflected every time he thought Tyson was going to ask him a serious question. It’s all done now, anyway, and Dante has his heart back.

“It had a good time with you,” Dante says softly, inches just a bit closer to Tyson on the dock. “You took good care of it.”

“Well, yeah,” Tyson says, surprised enough to look at Dante. “You have the kind of heart people want to take care of.”

And then he blushes, bright red, and Dante doesn’t even know what to say to that, feels just as flustered as Tyson looks.

After a too-long pause, Dante recovers enough to respond. “Just take the compliment,” he says.

Tyson blinks at him, and Dante can’t curb the impulse fast enough, leans in to kiss Tyson’s cheek. “Thanks for taking care of my heart, Tyson.”

He gets up and leaves before he does something even more stupid, like actually kiss Tyson, and before Tyson sees how fucking red his face is. When he chances a look back, Tyson has a hand held up to his cheek, sitting in the same position he had been. Dante feels ridiculously giddy, abruptly sure that the rest of the summer is going to be great.

* * *

Dante's heart is sitting on the kitchen counter of the apartment when Tyson stumbles into the kitchen. JT and Kerfy are both avoiding it, which isn't so easy when it's right in between the toaster and the blender. It would almost be funny, except Dante’s heart is in Colorado, and Dante is on the other side of the country.

“Are you fucking kidding?” Tyson mutters, horrified. He’s been back in Colorado for all of two days, and it hasn’t been that long since the last time he’s seen Dante, but he’s intimately familiar with the shape of Dante’s heart, and didn’t actually expect it to come back to him, never mind how much more tactile Dante had gotten after getting his heart back.

“This yours?” Kerfy asks, gesturing with the spatula he's using for making an omelet, careful not to get too close.

“No,” Tyson says, as he scoops it up. There are two judgmental stares aimed his way, but they're easy to ignore when he has the warmest heart he's ever held in his hands. “Bud, you have the shittiest timing.”

“You're not going to find the time to return it,” JT reminds him.

“It's fine; I had it for half the summer,” Tyson says, checking the heart over for any damage or crumbs. It's fine, warm and happy and still big. He'll let Dante know, if Dante's even noticed it's missing. Right now he’s going to grab breakfast and then take it back to his room, because it’s obvious it’s making both of his roommates uncomfortable, and sneak in his call to Dante, because Dante’s probably still on edge after what happened this summer.

Kerfy blinks and twists to look at him. “That sounds pretty serious.”

“It’s pretty something,” Tyson says, but he knows he sounds too ridiculously fond to even come close to pulling off grumpy.

When he looks up, JT looks vaguely amused, which means he’s probably going to chirp Tyson about it, but privately, because JT’s a good guy, while Kerfy is giving him another judgmental look. Tyson finds it hard to care, because he has Dante’s heart, and Dante’s heart is fucking incredible, is what it is.

Tyson doesn’t bother with eggs or toast or anything, he just grabs yogurt and granola and fruit, manages to hold them all with one hand, Dante’s heart in the other one. “I’ll see you guys,” he says, and hopes that Dante’s not in class.

He dials Dante, and Dante picks up almost immediately.

“So, I have your heart,” Tyson tells Dante, first thing, without even a hello.

Tyson can hear Dante frowning. “You have it?”

“Yeah, we're chilling,” Tyson says. It feels happy, resting on Tyson’s bedside table again, but in Colorado this time.

Dante sounds utterly confused. “Mat texted me he had it two days ago.”

“Showed up in the kitchen this morning,” Tyson tells him.

“Mat doesn't lie to me,” Dante says steadily.

“Maybe it was,” Tyson says. “But it's here now, and I wouldn’t lie to you about your heart.”

It feels like something, to admit that. That yes, it is here now. That it left Mat to come to him.

Dante's voice sounds a little amused, and Tyson’s abruptly sure that he’s up to something. "You're gonna have to keep it till the next time I see you.”

* * *

“Hey,” Tyson says, already grinning, hugging Dante. “I got you something.”

“My heart does not count as a Christmas present,” Dante teases, because he’s never going to let Tyson live that down, hugs Tyson back just as tightly. It’s good to see him, and Dante just knows his heart is going to be better than fine. Tyson’s proven that, already, even if sometimes his method of proving it is FaceTiming Dante and showing him his heart, resting on top of where Tyson’s own heart would be.

Tyson rolls his eyes. “You call a guy’s heart a pocket warmer once, and he never lets you forget it. No, I actually got you a present, but heart first, yeah? You wouldn’t believe how fucking judgy JT and Kerfy were, but they can deal, I don’t even care.”

Dante snickers, because he does, actually, know how judgy JT and Kerfoot were, has had Tyson narrate stories into his ear over phone calls all the time, Dante’s heart never far out of reach. They call each other a lot, whenever they both have a few minutes to spare, and it’s been easy to have long back-and-forth text conversations, even though it’s better to see their faces. Dante was there for most of the moments that Tyson’s been getting increased feedback in, looking surprised and pleased and a little bit awed every time, endearing as fuck. If he’s going to be perfectly honest, it’s been a lot like long-distance dating, not that either of them have put it in words. Dante’s pretty sure Tyson’s on the same page about it, that it is long-distance dating, that there is something here, that they both acknowledged it when Dante kissed Tyson’s cheek in Summerland.

“I have it upstairs,” Tyson says. “We’re also collecting coats up there, so you might as well get unwrapped.”

“It’s cold,” Dante pouts, but loosens his scarf and strips out of his coat.

Tyson rolls his eyes. “Don’t be a baby about the cold; I’ll cuddle you as soon as we get your heart back to you.”

Definitely on the same page, then, and Dante has no problem following Tyson up the stairs, saying hurried hellos to Tyson’s sister and mother. Dante leaves his coat, and scarf on Tyson’s bed, and watches Tyson, who’s made a nest for Dante’s heart in a Team Canada scarf on his bedside table, and picks it up so, so gently, before presenting it with a flourish to Dante, standing closer than he really needs to.

Dante picks it out of his hands, the feedback as joyful as it was last time, not that Dante was worried, this time around, knowing where it was. He feels one moment of swooping uncertainty, but this is practically a done deal, right?

“Thanks for taking care of my heart,” he whispers, right before he kisses Tyson.

Tyson’s smiling like he expected it, when Dante pulls away, but his cheeks are pink. “So we’re doing this, then?”

“You promised me cuddles,” Dante says, grinning at him.

Tyson laughs, and leans in to kiss Dante, short and sweet. “Put your heart away; we should go down before someone comes looking for us.”

Dante will do it, of course, but he doesn’t think it’ll stay with him too long before going back to Tyson.


End file.
